


Degrees of Heat

by iilwas



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: Angst, Cluelessness, F slur, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia (sort of), M/M, Semi-Slow Burn, Slur usage, mike/jay - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iilwas/pseuds/iilwas
Summary: Jay's starting to feel a little uneasy about how Mike makes him feel--though he hasn't yet decided exactly WHAT Mike makes him feel.
Relationships: Mike/Jay
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Degrees of Heat

Still shaking off the Milwaukee cold, Jay sat down on the couch with his friends. He rubbed his hands together to warm them up, and pulled the sleeves of his hoodie down over them. His little collection of friends all sat at a heterosexual distance from one another, laughing and smiling and drinking beers. It was bad movie viewing night, one of Jay’s favorite nights of the month. He shivered a little, and reached for the beer that was being handed to him. He looked up at the gracious beer-giver and saw his best friend, Mike. Mike smiled down at him with a soft twinkle in his eye. Jay smiled at him and sat back, cracking open his beer with a bottle opener passed to him by another nearby pal. Mike sat down next to Jay, grinning.

“This is gonna be a bad one, huh?” Mike said. Jay laughed and grabbed the worn VHS tape cover, holding it up for Mike to see.

“Look at this! A painting of a buff guy and a nearly naked woman? Looks sleazy,” Jay said. Mike just laughed. Jay leaned back again, beer in hand, and enjoyed the constant heat that emanated from Mike, slowly warming him up. As the movie started up, everyone cheered, preparing to poke fun. The movie was truly horrible. Poor audio, poor lighting, poor acting, poor script. It made Jay laugh loudly, and sometimes double over as his friends guffawed and cheered at stupid mistakes and bad editing. About halfway through the movie, a young character was introduced, with soft cheeks and awkward sweaters. As Mike noticed this character, he leaned over towards Jay. Jay moved slightly away, always surprised at how close Mike would sometimes get. He felt Mike’s hot breath on his ear as Mike whispered,

“Doesn’t that kid look like Wil Wheaton?” Jay glanced over and caught Mike’s eyes, which were bright and shining. Something fluttered in Jay’s chest, so he snorted and said,

“Mike, for the last time, I have not seen Star Trek.” Mike made an exaggerated face and said,

“Lame.” Jay laughed quietly. More of the movie passed, and an additional useless character was introduced. Jay squinted hard at the actor, trying to pinpoint his face. His eyes lit up and he pulled out his phone.

“Wait, Mike,” he whispered, and leaned over towards Mike to show him his phone. “Isn’t that Ari Lehman?” Mike turned a bit closer to Jay, and Jay could feel their hair brush together as Mike’s face was illuminated by the glow of the phone.

“Who the fuck is that?” Mike asked. Jay turned his head a fraction of an inch, careful to not get closer to Mike.

“Dude. Friday the 13th?” Jay said. Mike looked at him, and his eyes slowly crinkled up with a smile. He put a heavy hand on Jay’s knee, and turned his mouth to Jay’s ear.

“I don’t give a shit about some shmuck from the Friday the 13th franchise,” he whispered, his voice gravelly and filled with a hint of laughter. Goosebumps formed on Jay’s skin and he pressed his hands down on his forearms, brushing the feeling away. From the other couch, their mutual best friend Rich pointed at them and laughed loudly.

“What the fuck!” Rich said, a wide smile on his face. “Fucking gaaay!” he yelled at them. Jay could feel his eyebrows scrunch together and he stiffened his shoulders. Mike was unbothered, and still leaning at Jay with a mischievous smile. Their other friends glanced over at them, and made comical faces: clutching of pearls, hands over mouth, eyebrows raised. It was all in good fun, but something about it wasn’t super funny to Jay. He pushed Mike away and focused on the movie with more attention than is appropriate for a shitty schlock film.

Jay and Mike had always been close. When they first started working together, they really hit it off, and now it seemed like the best part of Jay’s day was to sit next to Mike at their dead-end VCR repair job. Truthfully, Jay had started working a side-gig alongside the VCR job, and could make considerably more money if he just quit the VCR job altogether, but didn’t quite feel ready to lose afternoons with Mike. Although he and Mike were really different (Jay being more cheerier but more closed off, Mike being very open but too cynical), they understood each other deeply. Jay had always noticed that male friendships were more tenuous, more fragile than his friendships with girls, and would become worried that some small thing would estrange him from Mike. He tried not to dwell on this.

A couple days after the bad movie marathon, Jay had hatched up a plan to scam his and Mike’s client Mr. Plinkett out of some cash. Jay invited both Mike and Rich over to help him with the plan. After Rich got off work, around 4PM, he and Mike arrived at Jay’s apartment.

“Hey guys,” he said, opening the door for them.

“Alright, so what do we got,” Rich said, peering around Jay to his kitchen table, filled with cardboard boxes and tape. Mike scurried in, tucking his hand to his hip as he peered down at the table.

“Crazy idea, guys,” Jay said. “So I’ve got all this shitty cardboard here, and a bunch of VHS tape covers I found at Goodwill. It’s like, literally trash. So we tape the cardboard together into VHS shape, and slide the old shitty covers on. And then—“ Mike started to laugh, bringing his hand to his mouth. His eyes crinkled up.

“And then we scam Mr. Plinkett into buying them, saying these are high quality tapes?” Mike said, snorting.

“So he has something new to watch when we fix his VCR!” Jay said, laughing hard. Rich let out a strained laugh, putting his forehead on the table. Mike wiped his eyes.

“That is so fucking stupid,” he said. They all flew into hysterics. Over their laughter, Rich’s cellphone started to beep. He cackled, and tried to quiet himself as he answered the phone.

“C’mon, Rich, we got a scam to do, get off the phone,” Mike stage-whispered. Rich waved his hand at Mike, shushing him. Jay sat down at the table next to Mike and started trimming cardboard down to size.

“Do you think we should give ‘em some weight, to be more convincing?” Jay asked. Mike snickered and shook his head. After a moment, Rich stood up, still on the phone.

“It’s- it’s my sister, guys. You know I get one phone call a year, I’m not hanging up on my sister. I’ll help you guys out with this some other time,” he said. Jay and Mike groaned and gave comical disapproving expressions. Rich laughed at them a little, and left Jay’s apartment. Through the door, they could hear him ask his sister about her youngest child. His voice got fainter and fainter.

“What a fucking loser,” Mike said. They both burst into laughter, faces getting red. For a while, they trimmed and taped cardboard into rectangular boxes, making stupid jokes and laughing at each other. The project required a little more effort that Jay had anticipated, but sitting there with Mike as the sky got dark, as they poked fun at each other, made it worth the time. As Jay pulled a strip of packing tape, and it made that horrible packing tape noise, he noticed the quiet that had fallen over them. It wasn’t a tense quiet, or an awkward one, they had just started focusing more on the shitty VHS project. Jay sat back in his chair a little. That moment from a couple days ago flitted through his mind. How Mike’s hand had been on his knee, his whispered breath on Jay’s face. It made Jay’s throat close up a little. He blinked a couple times and stuck the tape down to the edges of the cardboard. For a moment, he was glad Rich wasn’t there to accuse him of being gay.

Mike reached over for the packing tape. He really should have just asked Jay for it, because it was kind of out of his reach. Mike flattened his arm out across the table, stretching for the tape, leaning across Jay. Mike’s shoulder and ear brushed Jay’s torso, and Jay sat back, trying to get out of Mike’s way.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Jay said. There was a sharpness in his voice he was sure he hadn’t intended. Mike looked up at him, still reaching across the table. Feeling a little flustered, a little like he had to say something to diffuse whatever tension was filling the air, Jay said, “I’m totally loosing concentration on this thing, stop touching me like that.” Once again, there was a sharpness Jay didn’t recognize. Mike grabbed the tape and leaned back, raising his hands in a _whoa, man_ gesture. Jay rolled his eyes at Mike, unsure if Mike was being silly or not. As they continued working on the scam, the air seemed lighter. Whatever weirdness Jay was feeling slowly diffused, and he felt comfortable as streetlights flickered on from out his window. As Mike slid a crappy old VHS cover onto a box, he leaned over towards Jay with a mischievous smile.

“Hey,” he said, that characteristic gravel in his voice. “Wanna go to the bar?”

“Mike, it’s Tuesday,” Jay said, sort of smiling. Mike raised his eyebrows in fake surprise.

“Are the bars not open on Tuesdays?” Jay laughed and rolled his eyes. They both stood up to get their jackets. The air outside was bitter cold. Jay could see both his and Mike’s breath in the air under the streetlights, glowing yellow. Mike stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and looked up at the sky. He blew out a very visible breath, and laughed a little. He sniffed, his reddening nose beginning to drip. He took a hand out of his pocket to wipe at his nose, and stopped, catching Jay’s eye. Jay looked rapidly at the quiet street in front of them, wondering both why he was embarrassed that Mike saw him looking, and why he had been looking at all. He was relieved when they reached the bar’s wooden door, music flooding from inside. When they entered, they noticed Mike’s favorite booth was open (the one directly under the photo of Michael Dorn).

“Hey, go grab that. You want like, a pumpkin beer or something?” Mike said, leaning over to Jay and looking hard at the empty booth. Jay felt himself involuntarily smile. He nodded in agreement with Mike and half-jogged to the booth, reflecting on the way Mike assumed Jay’s drink choice. As he sat down, Jay shook his head, making his expression neutral. _Who cares?,_ he thought. _Stop being weird._ He took a deep breath and looked over the bar top at Mike, who was talking to the bartender, his hands folded and leaning against the counter. Immediately, Mike looked towards Jay and caught his eye. That uncomfortable tightness formed in Jay’s throat as he looked back at Mike’s eyes, dark and shining under the bar lights. A smile formed on Mike’s face, soft and genuine, and Jay felt he had to look away. Something was making his underarms sweat.

Mike hurried over, carrying two beers. He set them down and slid into his side of the booth, looking at something on his phone. Jay took a sip of his beer. It was good, light but not prissy. He thought again about Mike’s immediate drink assumption for him, and tried to hide his smile. Mike looked down intently at his phone, and Jay started to wonder if something was wrong. Suddenly Mike slid out of his booth and into Jay’s, bumping into him. Jay was about to protest, when Mike said,

“Look at this!” Jay peered down at Mike’s phone. “Another fucking Borat movie!” Jay scrunched his eyebrows.

“That’s gotta be a joke, right?” Jay said. Mike looked straight at Jay, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He had a silly smile spreading on his face.

“I think it’s real,” he said, in a voice that sounded like he was holding in a laugh. Jay looked down again at the phone.

“But it’s been, like, fifteen years or something,” Jay said. Mike held his hand over his mouth, grinning.

“I know,” he said, holding in laughter for sure now. Jay glanced quickly up at Mike. Mike’s expression was awestruck, amused, confused. His hand scraping his five o’clock shadow made a rough sound. His eyes twinkled. A scent drifted towards Jay, like laundry detergent and a kind of comforting, human scent. Jay could feel heat rising in his face, and he scooted away from Mike a little. After some time, Mike moved back to his own booth. Jay breathed a sign of relief, or a release of tension. They chatted for a while, and ordered a couple more beers.

As the night grew late, they paid and left the bar. On the curb, outside the bar, they stood and faced each other. Down the street, an old tattered man sifted through a trash can. The night had dropped several degrees, and Jay shivered in his jacket, wishing he had put on an extra layer before going out. Mike smiled at him a bit, and said,

“Hey, Jay, you look really fucking cold.” Jay’s teeth chattered.

“I am!” he said, rubbing his hands across his arms. Big, jacket-padded arms reached around Jay as Mike pulled him into a warm, short embrace. Jay’s face pressed against Mike’s upper chest, and he felt a little uncomfortable. It was nice to be warm for a moment, though. Mike stepped back and smiled warmly at him, tilting his head.

“I’ll see you on Thursday, then, Jay,” he said. Jay nodded and smiled, clutching his jacket closer to him. He waved as Mike turned, and walked briskly home. Jay’s skin burned when he entered his apartment, changing quickly from cold to hot. His hands were numb as he took off his jacket, hanging it on the hook. He tucked his hands under his armpits to warm them up as he kicked off his shoes and shuffled to his bedroom. As he reached to turn on his bedside light, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, feeling a little surprised to see a text from Mike. They usually never texted each other if they had just seen each other; it always seemed like overkill. Jay swiped open his phone to look at the text, and slowly felt a warmth rise in his face as his throat became tense. The text read:

_you actually looked pretty cold._

_making sure you got home safe._

Under that, another text popped up.

_wouldnt want you to freeze to death_

Jay smiled at his phone, feeling his cheeks strain. His fingers hovered over the keypad, moving this way and that, not touching the screen yet. He tried again, attempting to find something to say. Then, he stopped. He pulled his phone away from his eyes and shut it off, then dropped it on his bed. His stomach became painful. He turned and sat on the edge of his bed, breathing in big and letting it out slowly. The way he felt about that message from Mike made him nervous. He felt giddy, excited. It was the wrong way to feel, definitely not the way Jay wanted to feel. He huffed, and forced his face into a nonchalant expression. He hoped doing this would push down, maybe kill the feeling churning inside him. He leaned forward and put his face in his hands. What even was that feeling? As soon as Jay tried to parse it out, he stopped short, changing his thoughts. He flopped back onto his bed, his feet still on the floor. Car headlights flickered across his ceiling from his window. After some time of staring up at the blank ceiling, his phone buzzed again. It made Jay jump.

_wait i’m actually getting kind of nervous_

Jay glared at this message, as if Mike was intentionally fucking with him. Then he dropped his head, lifted it again, and let himself smile a little. His fingers typed out a quick message.

_Yeah, I’m fine. Go to bed._

Breathing out another long breath, Jay flopped back down. He closed his eyes hard, and out loud, in his semi-dark room, said,

“No.”

* * *

The morning was cold and grey. Jay had a shift at his side-job today, so he groggily showered and got dressed. It was a bleary, sleepy day so he decided to treat himself to coffee made by other people. He pulled on a hoodie and a jacket and walked down the stairs of his apartment complex towards Starbucks. On the corner outside the shop, an old man was sticking his arm into a trash can. Jay pushed his way through the door, and inhaled the warm coffee-hinted air of the Starbucks. Immediately he noticed a tall, sleepy-looking man with stubble. Jay grinned big.

“Mike! I’ve never seen you up this early,” he said, striding over to where Mike was standing in line. Mike glowed, looking down at Jay, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“So,” Mike said, a friendly sneer appearing on his face. “You didn’t freeze after all.” Jay looked down at himself as if to check. Mike tilted his head back for a second, thinking. He looked back down at Jay with a snickering smile.

“Didn’t turn into a Jay popsicle?” he said. Jay laughed, shaking his head at the horrible attempt at a joke. Mike enjoyed Jay’s laughter, and poked his elbow at him. “I dunno, Jay, you look pretty cold and stiff.” Jay waited for whatever bad punchline was going to follow, smiling up at Mike’s face.

“Oh,” Mike said, laughing lightly and rolling his eyes, “you’re always cold and stiff.” Jay looked around dramatically, eyebrows raised. He let out a laugh.

“What?” Jay said. They both laughed at each other. Mike made it to the end of the line, and ordered his coffee from the barista. The barista was young, with a throw-back mullet haircut and piercings. They smiled at Mike as they took his order, and glanced past Mike at Jay. Jay smiled politely at them. When they had both ordered, they wandered over the always-less-organized receiving line. Mike leaned against the counter and looked out the window. Then Mike’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, isn’t that the guy from last night…” Mike trailed off. Jay heard the door open behind him, and glanced around to what Mike was looking at. An old man, looking worn and in need of a meal, walked in. Jay mentally considered if he had cash on him, and what kind of bills, ready to hand the man a five for a coffee. The old man caught Jay’s eye and turned towards him.

“Fucker,” the man muttered. There was something sinister in his eyes that Jay began to notice. Mike moved slightly towards Jay. The old man noticed Mike, and looked between the two of them.

“Fatso,” he said under his breath. Jay’s face flushed with anger, and he looked up at Mike. Mike was unfazed by the comment, but had a hard look in his eyes. The barista called out their orders and placed their coffees on the counter. They caught Jay’s eye, and leaned as if they were going to speak to him. The old man walked several steps closer, looked Jay right in the eye, and said,

“Faggot.” As Jay turned to grab his drink form the counter, Mike put his arm out in front of Jay and stepped forward, towering over the man. Jay stumbled back a bit.

“Hey, don’t you fucking talk to him like that,” Mike said, his voice carrying a quality Jay had never heard before. The man peered up at Mike, clearly not comprehending that Mike could obliterate him in a second. Mike’s voice grew tense and low.

“Get the fuck out of here. Don’t even fucking look at him.” The air was electric, Jay felt as though things were moving in slow motion. The barista called out to a coworker, who left the counter and shuffled the man out of the shop. The mulleted barista leaned over the counter at them.

“I’m so sorry guys, that’s Effing Earl. He only says words that start with ‘f’. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it guys, really,” they said. Mike’s jaw was clenched, and his fists balled. He grabbed Jay’s arm, ushering him to the opposite exit. Jay stretched over to the counter and grabbed Mike’s coffee for him. Outside, in the cold morning air, Mike slammed the door behind him. Jay stood on the concrete step, holding both their drinks.

“What the fuck is that guy’s problem?” Mike said, furious. Jay shifted his foot.

“Mike, the guy was a little crazy. Don’t worry, I get that kind of comment a lot, I’m used to it. I was more mad about what he said to you, to be honest.” Mike didn’t seem to hear him. He gritted his teeth.

“I mean, he called you a fag! That’s fucking disgusting,” Mike said, spitting the words out. Jay stepped back a little bit, feeling strangely hurt. There was a looming silence. A cold pressure rested on Jay’s chest, a feeling that seemed like it might not go away. He sniffed a little in the cold.

“Well, here’s your drink, Mike,” he said, hearing his voice come out a little hollow. Mike took it from him and rested his back against the wall.

“Well…” Jay said. “I’m gonna go.” Mike nodded silently. Jay turned and walked down the concrete steps to the pavement. As he drove to work, Jay felt a little uneasy. He wasn’t offended by what Mike said, necessarily, it just took him a bit off guard that Mike would say something like that. Jay tiled his head to one shoulder as he drove, stretching. He gripped the steering wheel tight, then held it loosely. Mike had always been very masculine, so maybe he felt that the comment had been emasculating towards Jay, and felt protective. Or, it was possible Jay had misinterpreted what Mike meant. Jay huffed a little, not wanting the interaction to get under his skin. It didn’t really matter, one way or another. Well, it mattered if Mike was homophobic, for like ethical reasons, but Jay didn’t believe that to be the case. Mostly, anyway. He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his posture. He and his friends, including Mike, never really talked about that stuff a lot, so he guessed he couldn’t know for sure.

That weekend, Jay and Mike planned to meet up at the bar after the Packers game. Jay, of course, didn’t watch the game, but he was fine to wait till it was over before pulling on a sweater and jacket and walking to the bar to meet Mike. As he turned the last corner and spotted the bar, things were already crowded and loud. He groaned a little, realizing the bar patrons would likely all be sports guys riled up after the game. He zipped his jacket a little higher to cover his Freddy Krueger sweater. Not wanting to enter the loud, jostling bar on his own, he rested his back against the wall and waited for Mike, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. Around the corner came Mike, wearing a big black jacket with a bit of a plaid shirt sticking out from underneath. Jay smiled at him, and Mike grinned back as if he was having a great time already.

“Looks fuckin’ crowded,” Jay warned. Mike snorted.

“Yeah, no shit.” They walked into the bar and pushed through the clusters of yelling frat boys, scanning for two open seats. Near the back corner, in the more shadowy part of the bar, a couple was leaving the worn wooden booth, clearly trying to escape the increasing number of obnoxious men. Mike and Jay scurried over to claim the spot. Mike took off his jacket and threw it on the booth so no one would take his seat. Under his jacket he was wearing a red plaid flannel shirt, unbuttoned, with a soft grey t-shirt underneath. He clearly hadn’t shaved since Jay saw him last, and his consistent five o’clock shadow was more of a long stubble, or a short beard. A lot of the beard hairs were grey.

“Pumpkin?” Mike said. Jay continued looking at Mike, not really registering what he had said.

“Pumpkin, Jay? Beer?” Mike prodded. Jay’s face grew hot as he realized he hadn’t answered.

“Oh, uh yeah,” he said, pulling his eyes away from Mike. _God, I’m so embarrassing,_ he thought. He had no idea why he was so interested in every detail of how Mike looked tonight. Mike’s shirt was ratty, his face unkempt. Jay sat down in the booth, staring at the seat opposite him, where Mike’s jacket lay. He wiped his face with his hands, attempting to rid himself of a strange tightness in his cheeks, a dryness in his mouth. He took off his jackets and let it pool behind him in the seat. Suddenly he remembered Mike’s text from earlier in the week: _wouldnt want you to freeze to death._ His face began to grow warm again, and he felt a little sick.

“No,” he said under his breath. The crowds of people in the bar rose in volume, and dropped, and rose again. Mike walked back, carrying two beers. Jay looked at the table as he took his beer, afraid of what would happen if he looked at Mike again. He could feel Mike sit down on the booth, shift, and lean towards Jay over the table.

“Nightmare on Elm Street sweater today, huh?” Mike said. Jay looked down at his sweater.

“I mean, green and red. It’s getting close to Christmas, right? This is totally seasonally appropriate.” He dared a glance up at Mike. Mike smiled at him and drank from his beer. Jay felt flushed, a little sweaty.

“It’s kinda hot in here, with all these weirdos crowing up the bar,” Mike said, looking around at the people chatting and drinking. He looked back at Jay. “You look a little red.” Jay ducked his face and tried to make his expression neutral. He pulled at the front of his sweater, fanning himself with it.

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll cool down though,” he said. On the bar stools, near their table, a young man sat with his friend and drank from a short, clear glass. The man had tight jeans on, and yellow converse. He made exaggerated judging faces at the loud men at the bar near him. His friend was a girl with long, plain hair and a varsity jacket. She held a whiskey, and was clearly humoring her friend’s disinterest in the sports bros. Mike looked over at this guy, and started to snicker.

“He doesn’t belong here,” Mike said, as if making a joke. Jay wasn’t really sure what the joke was. The man was speaking to his friend, and clapping as he said certain words, for emphasis. Mike snorted.

“Poor guy didn’t know it was a Packer’s night, huh. Too fruity for his own good,” Mike said. A cold spot in Jay’s heart hurt him a little. He suddenly felt tired.

“Oh. Yeah. You don’t like fags, right?” Jay said, sounding sad in a way that surprised himself. Mike’s gazed snapped back towards Jay. There was a moment of silence, and Jay understood that things were changing, although he was not sure exactly in what way. Mike’s eyes, always shining and mischievous, looked hollow and hurt. Mike opened his mouth to say something, and closed it again. He moved his hands on the table, clasping them together, and then gripping the table. He inhaled deeply and exhaled.

“What?” Mike asked, his voice quiet, but not in his teasing, gruff way. Jay felt his chest tighten, and for a horrifying moment thought his eyes were going to well up.

“I- well, you, the other day, you said they were disgusting,” Jay said, feeling less and less comfortable with how his voice sounded. Mike’s eyes widened slightly.

“What? That- what? Jay, you know I don’t give a fuck about that, right? Like, shit, about if people are gay or- or whatever?” Although something was lightened in Jay, and he felt somewhat relieved, the sadness in Mike’s face hurt him immensely.

“Jay, fuck, I- I wasn’t trying to make fun of that guy over there, not really. You know how I am. It’s just funny to me that that guy is so, like, I dunno, he’s at a bar after the Packers game, and- I don’t know, it seemed funny,” Mike said, fidgeting with his beer.

“Right, right, sorry,” Jay said, wanting desperately to change the subject. It was clear to him that something had gotten lost in translation along the way. Maybe he was just being sensitive. Of course Mike isn’t homophobic. He drank from his beer, wishing he hadn’t said anything. Mike sat back in his seat, looking wounded. Jay needed some space, he needed to get away for a second so he could figure out how to apologize to Mike. He looked around, and saw an old arcade game in the back corner, behind their booth. He stood up and took his beer with him, leaving his jacket on the chair, and fished around for a quarter. Jay never cared much about arcade games, but this was the perfect mind-numbing thing to do to clear his head. He found a quarter in his pocket and dropped it in the machine. After playing for a few minutes, a warm shadow passed behind him. Jay knew it was Mike. He didn’t look up at him, but tried to look happy, focused on the game. Mike leaned on the wall next to Jay, holding his hands together in front of him.

“Pac-Man, huh?” Mike said. Jay forced a smile.

“It’s actually kind of fun,” he said. Mike nodded and looked away, across the bar. A woman walked by with a Miller Lite, and paused when she noticed Mike. She smiled at him and pulled her long hair over her shoulder.

“Hey, big guy, did you see the game?” Mike glanced at her. Jay felt frustrated, left out. He punched the arcade game buttons slightly too hard. The woman walked a step closer, raising her voice.

“The game tonight, did you see it?” she asked. Mike looked at her again, a sharpness in his eye.

“Hey, lady, I’m here with him tonight, okay?” he said. The woman stepped back, looking at Jay. She walked away with a shocked expression. Jay smiled to himself, and tried to hide it. He glanced up at Mike a little, still facing the arcade game. Slowly, a smile spread over Mike’s face. His eyes crinkled up. Jay turned away from the game, enjoying Mike’s expression.

“Don’t look away, you’ll get got,” Mike said, pointing to the game. Jay turned back, and Mike shifted his position against the wall, brushing slightly against Jay in the process. Mike inhaled through his nose, his eyes twinkling. Jay straightened up, and abandoned the game. He gestured vaguely with his hands, trying to find the right words. The bright digital lights from the game lit half of Mike’s face, and the dim bar lights cast him in a yellow warmth. Jay became aware of how tall Mike was, and struggled a little to meet his gaze without feeling silly.

“Look, Mike,” Jay said. He wasn’t sure what to say. Mike put a heavy hand on Jay’s shoulder. Heat emanated through Jay’s sweater to his skin. Mike nodded at him as if he understood what Jay meant, even though Jay had said practically nothing. His hand gripped Jay’s shoulder with a squeeze, and then Mike was leaning down. Jay felt his pulse in his brain, and his breath stopped. Mike tiled his head, and brushed his nose against Jay’s. As Mike touched his lips on Jay’s mustache and closed mouth, Jay brought his hands up against Mike’s chest. With a flashing moment of fear, Jay pushed Mike back. A look of pain and of betrayal flashed on Mike’s face. A small noise left Mike’s lips, as if he was about to speak. This was too much for Jay, his heart hurt him and he wanted just one moment to do something important, something honest. He reached his hands up around the back of Mike’s neck, palms down against Mike’s shoulders, feeling the softness of the flannel. He tugged slightly, and Mike leaned back down with a wary expression, with both hurt and excitement in his eyes. When their faces were inches away, Jay looked into Mike’s eyes, feeling that his lids were heavy and his breath deep.

“Sorry,” Jay whispered. Jay didn’t have to look to know goosebumps had formed on Mike’s skin—there was an electricity moving between them. Jay let his lids get heavier as he moved forward, shutting his eyes gently as he pressed a kiss to Mike’s mouth. The ease of this, and the need of it hurt Jay, but in a way he was okay with. It was not the hurt of sadness, or loneliness. The hurt felt like taking your shoes off at the end of a long day, letting your worn out feet touch the floor. It was needed, it was necessary. Jay inhaled against Mike, and caught that laundry detergent scent in his nose, along with the lager Mike had been drinking. They pressed their lips together again, adjusted slightly, and a tingle moved through Jay’s body. Mike’s hand moved to the back of Jay’s head, cradling him there. After a moment, Mike pulled away slightly. Jay tried not to meet Mike’s eyes, afraid, but Mike lingered there, waiting. Jay looked up into Mike’s face, and they took one large inhale, one large exhale in unison. Mike started to smile in a way Jay hadn’t seen before. Jay slowly let his arms drop from around Mike’s shoulders.

When Jay stepped away, there was a warmth surrounding him that felt new and permanent.


End file.
